Page 96 of Burn of the Everflame

“Revenge isn’t justice, Nidara. You can’t heal a burn by lighting another match.”

We turned a corner into a bustling square full of open-air stalls. I paused and tucked behind the wall so I could watch without people scattering the moment they saw me.

“Where are all the women?” I asked.

Mixed among the kiosks, I spied men of every age, from toddlers to hunched, slow-moving elders, but hardly a female Ignosian in sight.

“There,” she said, pointing to the corners of the square, where stern-faced soldiers stood watch with sharp eyes and sharper blades tucked in their leather harnesses. “And there.” She gestured to a few more spying from nearby watchtowers, bows in hand. “Oh, and there,” she added, noting a pair of armed women on either side of a man laden with gaudy jewelry.

“They’re all guards,” I said, and she nodded. “Where are the others?”

“Out on patrols, most likely, or on the city walls. I imagine several are escorting the supply runs to Umbros.”

“What about the women who aren’t guards?”

“There aren’t many left. Blessed Mother Ignios was a fearless warrior, and when the King took his throne, he declared that the women of the realm should follow in her image. He said that, by choosing a man to wear her Crown, the Blessed Mother intended for men to lead and women to fight.”

“Do you agree with him?”

She didn’t immediately answer. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, staring off with a troubled look. “My younger sister loved to cook. We have limited options here, but she could take anything and turn it into something delicious. She once made an incredible pie out of roast cactus and sweetbeans. Her dream was to work in the palace as head chef to the Crown.” Her mouth tightened. “She was such a frail thing. Used to beg me to fetch water because her arms were too weak to carry the buckets when they were full.”

Nidara fell quiet, and the air turned heavy and grim.

“She didn’t make it, did she?” I said softly.

Shadows darkened her eyes. “Father insisted she join the Royal Guard. He said we had to prove our devotion to the Blessed Mother or we would anger the King.” Her fingers gripped harder to her arms. “The first day of training, they dropped her out in the dunes and told her to walk back. They said it would strengthen her legs.” Her voice trembled. “Took me two weeks to find her body. Her mouth was full of sand.”

“Oh, Nidara,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded stiffly. “Father took his own life a week later. Blamed himself for not saying no to the King. He was a good man, my father, but I guess all it takes is for one evil man to speak, and all the good men to stay silent.”

If a man stays silent in the face of evil, is he truly good? I wondered, though I would not add to her pain by voicing it aloud.

“What was her name?” I asked.

Nidara smiled sadly. “Tallurah.”

I held out a palm and conjured a bright, blazing flame. “Blessed Mother Ignios,” I said, gaze lifting to the sky, “may you grant Tallurah the largest, most well-stocked kitchen the afterlife has ever seen. Guide her soul to her father’s, so that when Nidara is with them again, they’ll greet her at the dinner table with a slice of cactus-and-sweetbean pie.”

Nidara’s eyes lined with silver as she held out a hand and conjured a matching flame. Together with mine, they rose high and vanished with a flash. Though I might have imagined it, the Crown over my head pulsed a little brighter.

A low growl pulled our attention back toward the oasis just as a dark black blur slammed to the ground behind a cluster of buildings.

Sorae went stiff. Her wings unfurled as a quiet trill escaped her throat.

“Go on,” I coaxed her. “Go see him.”

Her head swung toward me, then back to the water. She crept forward, body hunched low to the ground. Her head jerked from side to side as she angled for a glimpse of the gryvern she’d been ripped away from all those centuries ago.

I followed a step behind her, joined by Nidara. My mind swirled with emotions, few of which were my own. Sorae’s anxious hope, Luther’s worry from afar, Tybold’s general loathing of everything and everyone, the four other gryverns whose bonds were a constant presence in my head.

In a way, I was glad for it. The stronger their emotions, the more they crowded mine out, leaving me with a numbness that was far preferable to the lonely rage that found me at night, when their minds went quiet with sleep.

As we approached the end of the street, Tybold stalked into view, and Sorae froze. Her tail slid out from between her legs and tentatively rose into the air, its black fur tip curling forward.

Tybold’s head twisted as he rose to his full height, massive wings stretching wide. A throaty rumble rolled down the sandy street.

He began to walk forward, and so did Sorae.